


unmasked

by manbunjon



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 09:28:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22967746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manbunjon/pseuds/manbunjon
Summary: he has you any way, and every way. has you on your back against the cot you shared or on the cool metal floor when he just cant stand the thought of taking the few extra steps. he pulls you down in his lap as he sits at the helm, rubs his cock against you, always always hard. he has you against the glass of the side port windows, works you slowly as he fishes his cock out and sheathes himself within you, your back digging into the bolts and handles of the door. even has you in the refresher, when your skin is wet and steaming and he finds the only thing he’s too weak for is resisting the way you smile at him.the mandalorian, a nsfw alphabet fic
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 110





	unmasked

**A = Aftercare** (What they’re like after sex)

he knows he can be rough sometimes. knows he grips you too tightly and holds you too closely, knows that when he’s done fucking you that you cant so much more than twist weakly in the sheets he had just rucked up, cheeks glowing with a lazy grin. so he takes care of you, washes the spit and cum from your body, the spit from your face. 

**B = Body part** (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he loves your hips, loves the way they press flush against his when he’s inside you, loves the way his hands fall naturally upon them when you sit astride him. loves the way they fit perfectly against his back as you curl behind him, when the nights grow too long and the nightmares too dark, and you rise silently and walk around the small cot to the side he has claimed as his. when you wrap yourself around him so that he can sleep knowing that for once, with your arms locked around him, your cheek against his bare back, your soft words against his ear, he is safe.

**C = Cum** (Anything to do with cum basically)

he can’t get enough of it, watching the way his cum looks against your skin, slides down your back or glitters on the curve of your belly like the prettiest tionese jewels he’s ever seen. he lets his fingers run through it, lets them push it back inside of you, not wanting to waste it, not wanting to leave you.

**D = Dirty Secret** (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

you wake each morning to a hard cock and a hard man, his hips pressed flush to yours as he pulls you against him, arm locked so tightly around your middle that you could barely move. you wiggle your hips, tease him, let his cock settle in the cleft of your arse before pushing back. he wakes up not long after that, but you know his secret— know that as he seemingly moved in his sleep, he was awake the whole time.

**E = Experience** (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?) **+** **bonus** **jealousy**

you don’t talk about past lovers, you don’t need to. as far as your mandalorian is concerned there’s only ever been you, only will ever be you. he had never thought of himself as jealous before, never thought he’d mind anything his lover had done in the past. but he can’t stand the idea of thinking of you with anyone else, can’t stand the thought of someone else touching you where he touches you, kissing you where he kisses you. 

**F = Favourite Position**

he has you any way, and every way. has you on your back against the cot you shared or on the cool metal floor when he just cant stand the thought of taking the few extra steps. he pulls you down in his lap as he sits at the helm, rubs his cock against you, always always hard. he has you against the glass of the side port windows, works you slowly as he fishes his cock out and sheathes himself within you, your back digging into the bolts and handles of the door. even has you in the refresher, when your skin is wet and steaming and he finds the only thing he’s too weak for is resisting the way you smile at him.

**G = Goofy** (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

he likes to makes you cum, loves to make you cum, but his very favourite is to make you laugh. ever the man of few words he can have you giggling just from the way his bare fingers slide down your side teasingly as he slides into you, or the way he flutes the ends of your hair and tickle the sides of your face with it.

**H = Hair** (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

his hair is dark and course, a slight curl to it that has your eyes sometimes flicking to the crown of his head, to the visor of his helmet. you wonder what colour the hair on his head is, the shade of his eyes is, wonder if he blushes when he looks down at you or watches carefully as you sleep. when you fall to your knees to take him into your mouth, nuzzling your cheek into his belly, and hear the sudden hiss of metal as his gloved fingers lift up your chin, you’re more than happy to find that not only does his face reflect the love etched so plainly across yours, but that his eyes are just as bright and deep as you dreamt they’d be.

**I = Intimacy** (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

he likes to watch you while you sleep, the way your chest rises and falls so easily, with the child’s head pillowed against your soft breast, his small fingers reaching up to tangle in your hair or in the linens of your clothes. you look so peaceful when you sleep, like an angel your mandalorian wasn’t ever sure existed before now, before you, with your eyes fluttering so peacefully and your lips parting in dream. 

even when you drool, even when you mumble in your sleep, when you groan as you turn on your belly and drape your whole body across the bed you had asked him to share with you. he can’t help but chuckle at the sight of you, can’t help but let his fingers run affectionately across the slope of your cheek, can’t help but bend to let his lips press to the soft slope of your brow, as he thinks how much he cares for you, how deeply and completely in love he is with you 

**J = Jack Off**

sometimes when he’s teasing you, when you’re being a brat and he’s punishing you, he makes you sit back in the cockpit as he pushes himself down in his chair and fishes his cock out of his breeches, makes you spit in his palm for him so it glides easier against the soft skin of his cock as he slicks himself up. your mouth waters at the sight, at the way he touches himself so languidly, like he’s in no real rush at all, and you want to sink to your knees, want to take over the task for him, but you know better than to end the game too quickly, know better than to disobey him. 

**K = Kink (** one or more of their kinks) and **L = Location** (favourite places to do the do)

his favourite place to have you is in the cockpit of his ship. sometimes you think he wants the entire galaxy to see you, wants them to see the way your bare body shows through the clear glass of the helm, the way your mouth falls open when he drags the head of his cock against the walls inside you, the way your face burns with pleasured heat at the way he palms at your tits. he’d let them look all they wanted, let them know who you belonged to. your mandalorian wants the whole galaxy to know that you were his— and that he was yours.

**M = Motivation** (What turns them on, gets them going)

you go out of your way to tease him sometimes. you wake him up in the mornings with your cold toes sneaking up the legs of his pants, the way you arch your back purposefully pushing your arse back into his hips, and you grin lazily as you feel his cock already beginning to take interest in you, sliding between the cleft of your arse in the way that has him groaning. you reach across him when he sits at the ships controls, let your breasts drag across his arm or reach other and squeeze his thigh just right, just between the pads of his armour and the thicker material of his pants. you never fail to get him going, to turn him on so quickly and so completely that it’s as though you’ve flipped a switch inside of him.

**N = NO** (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

he’s too strong, he thinks. so strong that it’d be easy to hurt you, and he’d never hurt you. he’ll pull your hair, give a soft smack here, a light tap there– only ever just enough to tease you or punish you for being a brat, but never anything harder, never anything that could actually hurt you.

**O = Oral** (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

there’s nothing quite like going down on a mandalorian. watching your face reflected in the polished steel of his mask, seeing every expression you make, every expression _he makes_ you make, when he pushes into you and seats himself to the hilt, the dark glass of his helm revealing everything and nothing at all. you can see yourself on your knees, sloppy, always so sloppy for him it seems, a mess of spit and drool and grasping hands, so hungry for him that you can barely manage to get his armour fully undone before your fingers are fumbling with the laces of his beeches and pulling and pulling until his cock springs free. 

**P = Pace** (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

every time he takes you, every time he lets you take him, you don't know what to expect. you know that pleasure is coming, orgasms bright as the sparks of stars that flash as he pushes into light-speed, know the heat and the tingling and the brightness is approaching. but you can never quite predict the way he's going to take you. he likes you quick and dirty, fucking into you like you haven't got any time to waste, he likes you slow and languid, like you can spend all afternoon just exploring each others bodies, just discovering each others pains and pleasures. he likes when you're atop him, fucking up into you as your grind against his hips, your thighs spread, your back curving back as he pushes deeper and deeper as you sit astride him like some great desert rider. you take him to the hilt without struggle, without complaint, until you can feel him up in your cervix, up in your belly, up in your throat. 

**Q = Quickie** (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

he prefers to take his time with you, to undo you slowly and thoroughly, to feel you tremble and hear you whine. but sometimes he just needs you to bad. he needs to be inside of you, needs to feel you clench around him, feel your lips smearing up the clean glass of his mask, your soft skin beneath the gloves he’s too hurried to shuck off. sometimes he just wants you quick, when he’s just caught and delivered a fresh bounty and his blood is up, when he’s battered and bruised and you think that maybe, just maybe, he thought he wouldn’t make it out of this one alive. 

**R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)**

he wants you any way, _every_ _way_. sometimes it doesn’t matter where you are, what you’re doing, something in you just sets him off, flips a switch inside him that has him pressing you back into trees as you cross through the woods or pressing his cock into you as you walk around city corners at night. 

he’d protect you no matter what, you both know it, so the risk of discovery and punishment is minimal, and that excites you, excites him. and sometimes you think he _wants_ to be discovered, wants someone to find him with his hands up your tunic or on his knees with your legs wrapped over his shoulders. 

**S = Stamina** (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

sometimes its almost too much, how long he can fuck you, how long he can stave off his own orgasm as he chases yours. sometimes he makes you come so hard and so often that you feel almost faint, feel almost exhausted by the prospect of coming around his cock or his fingers again. somehow he knows your body as well as you do, somehow knows when you can take more and knows when you veer off into oversensitivity, and he takes mercy on you, lets you sink back into the sheets and fall instantly to sleep. 

**T = Toy** (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

when he’s with you, there’a no need for toys. he wants to feel you come on his fingers, his lips, his cock, wants to feel the way you tighten around him, writhe against him, moan right in his ear as you fog up his mask, instead of dulling and cheapening the pleasure he could be giving you by using a toy. 

**U = Unfair** (how much they like to tease)

you like to act and he likes to tease, likes to act like he’s mad at you and he won’t touch you, but you can both see the way his cock presses up against his breeches, see the way he shifts to seek out some relief for the way you’ve made him so hard he can barely stand it. you stare up at him with your big doe eyes, teeth biting into your bottom lip as you sink into his lap and press your lips against his mask messily, smudging the steel in the way you know he would hate anyone else to do. he lets you do it, lets you make a mess of him for a few moments before he gives up the game and stops his somber appearance, pushing you back so he can fish his cock out of his trousers and get your mouth around him, or so he can push into you and make you moan so pretty for him. 

**V = Volume** (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

he loves the sounds you make, could get drunk off them. the way you whine for him as his fingers tease you, pinching your nipples, circling your clit, the way you gasp when he pushes inside you, so hard and deep that for a moment he seems to knock the very breath out of you. 

**W = Wild Card** (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

he likes to hold your hand. at first you think he just wants to show you off, wants to take your hand and cross his fingers with yours, wants to show everyone around who you belong to. 

but he does the same when it’s just the three of you, when the child snores softly in the basket beside the bed and you’re lying beside him in the cabin, when his big arms are around you and he pulls you so close against him that you can feel every smooth edge and plain of his beskar steel against your back. his fingers reach for yours like grasping vines, winding through your fingers, his bare thumb stroking against your palm softly, tenderly. 

**X = X-Ray** (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

he’s handsome, your mandalorian, when the days shed to weeks and the weeks fly quickly to months. before long he’s removing his armour for you, removing the beskar steel he’s enveloped himself in until he seems to shine bright as an assassin droid. his skin is dusky, a shade of olive that still stands velveteen soft beneath the many nicks and scars he’s accrued over so many years of bounty hunting. 

you want to kiss each one, and you do. down each raised scar and silvery mark, all the way down his firm chest and belly to the cock that hangs lazily between his legs, waiting for the attention you’re only too happy to give. he’s big, spanning the width of you palm so that your fingertips can barely close around him, and when you lean forward and take him passed your lips again— no matter how many times you’ve done this, gotten to your knees before the chair at the helm and taken him into your mouth like you were taking something special, something holy— it takes you a moment to adjust to the intrusion, to stop yourself from gagging. 

**Y = Yearning** (How high is their sex drive?)

first thing in the morning and last thing at night, in the afternoons when you share lunch at that little table in that little kitchen you’ve made such a home. in the evenings when you sit beside him in the cockpit and the stars reflect on your face like the shimmer of fresh-water pearls, or in the middle of the night when he wakes to find you lying beside him with the child in your arms, so sleepy, so soft, so sweet that he cant help but touch you, hold you tighter. 

**Z = ZZZ** (…how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

not until you’re asleep, not until he can feel you sink into sleep and he can scoop you up into his arms and pull you against his chest, until he can see the even respire of your breath as it fogs the visor of his mask and see the gentle flicker of the eyelashes that slope against the curve of your cheek. he rests his head against yours, the soft words he whispers coming out slightly metallic through his modulator, but no less loving, no less kind, no less easy to hear how much he’s in love with you. 

**Author's Note:**

> i got this request a while ago and finally filled it! it's my first nsfw alphabet, so idk if i did it right, but i tried!


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